


one big crash that no one dies in

by dutty (vodka)



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Friends With Benefits, M/M, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 11:29:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/798234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vodka/pseuds/dutty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>“Let’s give our Ben a show, yeah? We already know how much he likes to watch. He’s made a career out of it,” Harry looks back at Ben, sees how hard his jaw’s clenched. “Invitation’s still open whenever you’re ready.” </i>
</p><p> </p><p>(Or: the one where Harry is very greedy and Ben and Zayn indulge him.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	one big crash that no one dies in

**Author's Note:**

> -Contains mentions of Zayn/Perrie and references to an open marriage on Ben's part.  
> -This is some self-indulgent fuckery. I blame everyone who encouraged this.  
> -Title taken from lyrics to 'Look Around' by the Red Hot Chili Peppers .

It only takes fifteen consecutive and increasingly incoherent texts for Harry to convince Zayn that it’s perfectly reasonable for him to come round to Harry’s room at 3am. They’re in Manchester and Harry’s just got in from catching up with a few pals at a bar, and he’s lonely in that way he gets where it hits him how much of his friends’ lives he’s missing out on and how much of his they think they know but don’t, and he’d got just drunk enough to want someone to talk about things with and maybe have a cuddle and Zayn’s just down the corridor (and also happens to be the only one who’d replied to Harry’s pleas for company, but that’s neither here nor there because Harry loves Zayn anyway). 

“You alright?” Zayn says as Harry steps aside to let him in. Zayn looks unfairly good for someone who’d just put on a hell of a show for a sold out crowd and hasn’t yet had a good night’s sleep, freshly showered in a worn t-shirt that Harry swore he’d last seen on Louis and track pants that match the description of the ones Liam’d been rummaging about the bus for that afternoon. 

“Yeah, I’m alright. I’m good, just a bit tipsy. Thanks for coming.”

“Was just watching the Avengers again anyway,” Zayn says with a shrug, Louis’ shirt stretching tight on his broad shoulders as he swaggers his way in. “Would’ve kicked your arse if you’d woken me up, though.”

Harry closes the door behind him, smiling a little when he sees that Zayn’s thrown himself across his bed, propped up on his elbows with his legs splayed wide. 

“No, you wouldn’t have.”

Zayn raises an eyebrow. “You think so?”

“You like me too much,” Harry says breezily, flashing that cheeky grin that often gets him his way and makes Zayn poke at his dimples. He flops belly-first onto the bed, wriggling until he’s right next to Zayn, so close that they’re sort of touching but not. 

Zayn moves closer. His forearm is warm against Harry’s. “You might have a point there,” he says, tilting his head and looking up at Harry from under his stupidly long eyelashes, all perfect cheekbones and stunning honey brown-green eyes. He bites his lip, sucking it under his teeth, getting it wet before letting it go, and he looks entirely too smug when he catches Harry staring at his mouth. 

Harry licks his own lips in turn, his skin suddenly too hot. And then Zayn’s letting out a quiet laugh under his breath and tipping his head closer, their noses rubbing together before he’s got his tongue in Harry’s mouth, licking his way in as his fingers curl around Harry’s bicep, pulling him in so that they’re pressed flush against each other. 

This hadn’t really been what Harry’d had in mind, not really, because they haven’t done this since the last tour when he and Zayn had somehow fallen into the habit of getting each other off. They’ve still yet to really talk about that, but apparently it’s happening again and Harry’s quite alright with that at the mo. 

“How was your party or whatever?” Zayn asks as Harry pulls the beanie on Zayn’s head off, dark hair spilling out flat and longish on the top with the sides shaved close. Harry doesn’t know how Zayn manages to make that look so good, but it does, makes him look like one of those unattainable too-cool-for-everything hipsters that’ve rolled their eyes at Harry in the Soho nightclubs Grimmy’d introduced him to.

“It was good,” Harry says, breaking into a laugh when Zayn snags the beanie Harry’s wearing off, too, throwing it over his shoulder. Harry’d forgot he’d had one on, as well; he can only imagine what a mess his hair is, a disaster of waves and curls and bafflingly straight bits like it always is after he’s washed it and shoved it under a hat. 

But Zayn doesn’t comment on it, doesn’t seem to notice at all, just hums and nips at Harry’s jaw, rolling them over so that he’s on top and sucking along Harry’s neck, stubble dragging along Harry’s skin as he mouths at Harry’s collarbones with a hand shoved up Harry’s vest. Harry wants that hand lower, wants to push it down and make Zayn hold his cock so they can hurry this along and get to the fun bits, but then there’s a knock at the door that makes them both jump out of their skin, Zayn’s forehead crashing into Harry’s chin. 

Zayn rolls off quickly, looking like nothing but trouble with his lips red and puffy and his cock tenting Liam’s track pants and leaving a wet spot that Harry’s not so sure Liam will be pleased about. 

“You expecting more company at this hour?” Zayn says under his breath. “It’s almost bloody four.” 

“I know, but I texted a lot of people asking them to hang out. It’s probably one of the lads or Tom or something,” Harry says, getting up and adjusting his cock so that it’s tucked under the waistband of his pants instead of obscenely jutting outward.

“Oh, so I wasn’t your first choice, then? That’s lovely to hear.” 

Whoever’s at the door knocks again, louder this time. Zayn frowns.

“Just give me a minute and I’ll make it up to you,” Harry tries, giving his most imploring look. He can tell Zayn wants to smile but is working his hardest to remain unimpressed. “I’ll suck you off?” he tries again.

Zayn’s smirking now, giving Harry a thorough once-over. “That’s a given though, innit? You’ll have to try harder than that.” 

If Zayn weren’t so bloody good at _smouldering_ even when he’s got a ridiculous boner in someone else’s trousers, Harry thinks he’d be a little offended that Zayn thinks he’s such a sure thing. But instead he says, “I’ll get you breakfast in the morning?” proving that he’s the very definition of ‘sure thing’.

Zayn laughs, giving Harry an appeased thumbs-up, and Harry shakes his head as he unlocks the door, cracking it open a fraction.

Ben’s stood on the other side, arms folded across his chest in the shirt he’d had on when Harry’d last seen him, jeans traded in for a pair of striped pyjama pants. 

“Are you going to let me in? Or was I not supposed to take those drunk texts seriously?”

“Um,” Harry says, and then somehow Ben’s in his room and Zayn’s got a pillow placed conspicuously over his lap looking like he’d got caught with his hand in the cookie jar. 

Ben’s not an idiot; he’s actually one of the smartest people Harry knows—Harry thinks it’s because his dad’s the Right Honourable Professor Lord Winston and all that—and Harry can see the moment it all clicks into place in Ben’s head. Harry thinks it would be funny if he weren’t silently hoping for the earth to open and swallow him up. He’s sort of been trying to get Ben’s attention these past few months, flirting with him and hanging off him like a limpet and getting drunk and embarrassing and ringing Ben a handful of times so he could tell Ben how much he wants him whilst very blatantly getting himself off. So he kind of has a (one-sided) _thing_ with Ben, too, another _thing_ that he should probably have talked about but hasn’t. 

He can’t imagine this painting him in a very good light, knows how it looks, like he’d been messing about with Zayn just because Zayn had got there first. And Ben had always been nice enough not to let Harry down or even mention any of Harry’s attempts at getting him into bed, but this might just make everything come crashing down.

“Zayn,” Ben says, smile uncharacteristically tight. Zayn smiles back, giving a mock salute. It’s the most awkward thing that’s ever happened. Ever. Ben turns to Harry. “Looks like you’re all sorted then. I’ll see you in the morning.” 

“No, wait,” Harry calls out, grabbing onto Ben’s arm because Harry knows this is the kind of thing he can’t let end right here without it fucking everything up, and now that Ben’s here Harry just doesn’t want him to leave. Both Zayn and Ben are looking at him like he’s lost his mind.

“Stay,” Harry says, bringing a rather bemused Ben over to the bed so that Ben’s sat next to Zayn. And then Harry wedges himself between them, feeling just as awkward and confused as Zayn and Ben look. So Harry does what he always does when he doesn’t know how to handle things: he sits and smiles pretty and hopes something happens quickly to take the attention off him. 

“I think I’m going to head to bed, it’s like, getting late,” Zayn says, shattering the uneasy quiet that’s settled over them. He throws the pillow off his lap and makes to stand, but temporary insanity or something like it hits Harry hard, and he’s suddenly reaching for Zayn, pulling him in by the jaw and kissing him hard. 

Zayn pulls away so fast that he nearly falls off the bed, looking at Ben who’s looking at Harry like Harry’s lost his mind. 

“Harry, what are you playing at right now?” Ben asks much too calmly, because Ben never gets mad, looking at Harry’s fingers where they’re curled around Zayn’s tattooed wrist. 

“Kind of wondering the same thing,” Zayn says under his breath. 

“I just,” Harry pauses, taking a deep breath, “Zayn and I have a thing and you said, that one time when you got really pissed, that Meri wouldn’t be upset if you had sex with someone else because you’re gone all the time, so we could work something out? All three of us?” 

Zayn lets out an incredulous noise, half laugh, half something else. “Seriously, Harry?” 

Ben looks amused, too, in spite of himself. “You honestly think that’s a good idea? How much have you had to drink tonight?” 

Harry ignores the jab at his sobriety, feels the need to push this whilst the tension’s let up some. “We don’t have to do it again or anything, I don’t know, it could be fun, why not?” 

Ben chews on his bottom lip, shaking his head. “Harry—“ 

Harry tightens his hold on Zayn, desperate to maintain some kind of too-intense eye contact with Ben. “I won’t tell anyone, c’mon, you know I won’t.” 

“You’ve just gone and blurted to Ben than we apparently fuck about, not really helping your trustworthiness, mate,” Zayn says wryly. 

Harry looks away from Ben, giving Zayn the most betrayed look he’s ever given anyone, he thinks, since his parents had sat him and Gemma down and told them that they were getting a divorce. 

Zayn’s eyes soften and he smiles a little. “Don’t look at me like that; you’re the one trying to proposition Ben to have a bloody threesome with us, which _we_ haven’t even talked about.” 

“Zayn, we’ve literally never talked about any of the stuff we’ve done, and we’ve had a threesome before, what’s the big deal?”

“We were drunk and we pulled the same girl at a club, that’s kind of different!” 

Ben coughs, face flushed in a way Harry’s never seen it, looking more towards the ceiling than he is at Zayn or Harry. “Wow. What have I got myself into?” 

“Sex,” Harry says, feeling cheeky and perhaps undeservedly clever.

“Need I remind you that I _am_ a married man, and also a man of faith?” 

Harry wants to say something in Hebrew because he always falls into doing that whenever he and Ben are having banter, but he doesn’t really _want_ to talk anymore, and if he’s going to get his way, then he’s going to have to make this physical. Sex is something Harry’s pretty confident about; he’s good at it, likes the game of making someone want him. And right now he really wants Ben, wants to finally get what he’s been after, and Zayn being a part of it just makes it hotter. 

He thinks it’s quite telling that Ben’s still here. And he thinks Zayn’s more up for it than he’s letting on, because he’s still here, too, and it’s next to impossible to get Zayn to do anything he doesn’t want to do. 

Harry turns away from Ben, twisting round to look at Zayn who’d already been watching him expectantly. “Maybe we should show Ben that it’s not the end of the world to have a bit of fun when you’ve got something of an open relationship? I mean, you’ve survived and you’ve still got Perrie.” 

Zayn’s eyebrows rise a little. “What are you getting at, Harry?”

“Let’s give our Ben a show, yeah? We already know how much he likes to watch. He’s made a career out of it,” Harry looks back at Ben, sees how hard his jaw’s clenched. “Invitation’s still open whenever you’re ready.” 

And then Zayn’s fingers are tangled in Harry’s hair, pulling hard and making Harry turn around so Zayn can kiss him, suck on his bottom lip as he gets Harry’s jeans undone, thumbing the button open with a smoothness that’s almost enviable, the zip halfway down by its own accord. 

“Guess you’re up for it, then?” Harry laughs into Zayn’s mouth. 

“Fuck off, you owe me breakfast and a blowjob,” Zayn says, sounding so _fond_ and breathless that Harry can’t wait to get Zayn’s dick in his mouth. 

Harry becomes positively lost in Zayn, caught up in him like he always gets whenever they do this; kissing Zayn, touching Zayn, crawling into Zayn’s lap so that Harry’s straddling his thighs as Zayn helps him out of his top. And then Zayn’s biting at his chest, tonguing at the butterfly antennae tattooed onto Harry’s ribcage before getting his mouth on Harry’s nipple, getting it between his teeth and _pulling_ , rough just how Harry likes it. Harry gasps out, digging blunt nails into Zayn’s shoulders. 

And it’s then that Harry’s eyes meet Ben’s; truth be told he’d almost forgot Ben was even there, sat up against the headboard, because Zayn’s so, so good at this and gorgeous and it’s easy to forget everything else but Zayn’s mouth and the feel of him all over, but fuck, Ben’s eyes are dark, and he’s just _watching_ , staring intently at Zayn’s tongue as it flicks against Harry’s nipple where it’s gone hard and wet with spit. 

Ben’s hands are clenched at his sides, balled into fists where he’s gripping the sheets, and Harry can see how fucking hard Ben is, cock fat and straining against the soft cotton of his pyjamas. Harry wants to see it, wants to see Ben fuck it desperately into his own fist as he watches them because he won’t allow himself to touch. 

“You alright there?” Harry asks him, feeling smug and smirking a little because they’re actually getting away with this and it’s exciting, but he loses all composure when Zayn shoves his hand down the back of Harry’s pants, grabbing a firm handful of one arse cheek and grinding up between Harry’s legs. 

Zayn pulls his mouth away from Harry’s chest, runs his tongue over his own upper lip. “Wish you had your camera, innit?” he says to Ben, doing that grin he does where his tongue’s stuck between his teeth, and it shouldn’t look hot, but it does. Harry doesn’t know which one of them he wants more. 

Ben swallows thickly, and his voice is all sorts of wrecked when he says, “I don’t think we’d have been able to include this in the movie anyway.” 

“Yeah, probably isn’t best for fourteen year old girls to know how good Harry is at sucking cock,” Zayn says, and Ben grips the sheets even harder. Harry doesn’t know why Zayn’s suddenly so bold, but fuck, he’s into it.

“Invitation’s still open,” he says again, getting up off Zayn so he can get his inconveniently tight jeans and boxers off. Zayn follows his lead, making quick work of pulling Louis’ shirt up over his head and kicking out of Liam’s track pants.

Ben’s looking at both of them, and it’s not like he’s never seen either of them without clothes on before, could probably tell each member of One Direction apart by their bare arses alone at this point, but this is different, this makes Harry feel dirty because he and Zayn haven’t got any clothes on and they’re both hard and touching each other like this isn’t ridiculous and crossing every line imaginable, and he likes it.

“You can wank, you know,” Harry says, looking pointedly into Ben’s lap. “That’s starting to look a bit uncomfortable.” 

“Stop showing off,” Zayn scoffs, scooting further up the bed and spreading his legs, leaving more room for Harry to crawl over him and lick into his mouth. They kiss for a bit, lazily grinding their hips so that their cocks rub together, but Harry quickly grows tired of that, wants Ben to see how good he is with his mouth, wants him to get a good look at how pretty Zayn’s dick is.

He pulls away from Zayn, moving downwards so that his face is right between Zayn’s legs. Harry always jokes about Zayn’s cock being the biggest thing on his wiry frame, and it is, curved against his stomach and quite intimidating. He mouths at Zayn’s balls first, tonguing the crinkled skin in the middle and getting them all wet until everything just smells like spit and boy. 

“Fuck,” Zayn hisses, reaching down to tug on Harry’s hair. And Harry wants to look at Ben, wants to see if he’s still watching, but Zayn won’t let him up far enough, shoves his cock into Harry’s mouth and nearly gags him with it. 

Harry grips tight onto Zayn’s thighs, bracing himself and just _letting_ Zayn fuck his face as hard as he wants, focusing on keeping his mouth nice and slick so that it’s good and messy, lots of spit just how Zayn likes it. 

But then Zayn’s not paying as much attention to him and Harry definitely doesn’t like that, so he pries Zayn’s fingers from where they’re tangled in his curls, pulling up off his cock to see what’s got Zayn’s attention. 

And then he gets it. Ben’s got his dick out, just pulled through the flap of his pyjamas with his fingers curled around it, and fuck. Fuck.

The air’s gone thick and they’re all just watching each other like they’ve reached some sort of imaginary impasse. 

Ben clears his throat, smiles a bit sheepishly. “Don’t stop on my account.” 

Harry barks out a laugh, raspy and wrecked-sounding, and Zayn just grins before tightening his hold on Harry’s hair again and fucking right back into his mouth. Harry moans around him, feels Zayn’s thighs tensing up beneath his hands. 

He slips one hand down Zayn’s inner thigh, sliding it between Zayn’s legs until his fingertips are brushing against the tight clutch of Zayn’s arsehole, and then Zayn’s coming in his mouth, just like that, the only warning a cut-off groan that sounds like it’d initially started off as a swear word. 

Harry lets Zayn slip out of his mouth, burying his face in the damp curve of Zayn’s pelvis as he reaches between his own legs to get himself off. But then there’s a hand on his lower back, warm with fingers splayed, and he looks over his shoulder, sees Ben standing behind him with his bottom lip tucked beneath his teeth. 

“Raise your arse up a little,” Ben says, and shit, Harry thinks he could get into this, Ben telling him what to do. So he does, arcs his back so his weight is on his forearm and his arse is up in the air, face buried in Zayn’s hipbone. 

He bites into Zayn’s skin, teeth marks bruising beneath Zayn’s tattoos, when he feels Ben’s cock slap between his arse cheeks, his hands pressing them together so they’re tight around his prick as he ruts against Harry so hard that it rocks Zayn, too. 

“Fuckin’ hell,” Harry hears Zayn rasp. And then Ben is leaning over Harry’s back and Harry can hear him and Zayn making out right over him, all wet tongues and lips and it makes Harry tug even more desperately at his own cock. It also makes him a little jealous, because Ben hadn’t kissed _him_ and that’s not even remotely fair.

But Harry’s close, so, so close, and when Ben pulls away from Zayn, his cock slips out from between Harry’s arse, and it makes Harry let out an embarrassingly bereft noise, almost makes him want to beg Ben to fuck him even though that’s not something he’s even done yet. 

But Ben’s still keeping Harry right where he wants him, lowers the hand he’d braced at the base of Harry’s spine in order to to hold Harry _open_ , and Harry can still hear Ben’s heavy breathing, the soft thuds of Ben stroking his cock faster and faster until his grip on Harry’s arse is almost too tight and he’s coming, spunk hitting the backs of Harry’s thighs and balls and right between his arse, dripping onto his hole. 

It’s enough to make Harry come, too, right onto the sheets and the side of Zayn’s leg. 

He rolls onto his back, lying beside Zayn and tangling their fingers together, but he’s looking at Ben. “You haven’t kissed me yet,” he says as Ben tucks his prick back into his trousers, nudges Ben’s thigh with his foot. “C’mon, that’s not fair.” 

Zayn laughs and Ben looks a bit exasperated, but he leans over Harry anyway, kisses him nice and soft and his beard scratches against Harry’s skin, pricklier than even Zayn’s stubble, and Harry decides that he’s going to need this again, wants to feel Ben’s scratching beard all over. 

Ben pulls away first, licking at his lips uncertainly and Harry wonders if Ben had been able to taste Zayn in Harry’s mouth. 

“I should really get back to my room now,” Ben says quietly, like the weight of what they’ve just done is suddenly on his shoulders. 

“Stay, man,” Zayn shrugs, sitting up. “Harry’s agreed to get us breakfast in the morning; extra time to sleep in.” 

Harry sits up, too, giving Zayn the most appalled look he can muster. “Excuse me? I said I’d get _you_ breakfast.” 

“Stop being a brat; you’re the one who woke Ben up anyway. It’s only fair.”

“He does have a bit of a point there,” Ben says, getting back into bed and under the covers. “You know how I take my tea.” 

“I can’t believe you’re both ganging up on me like this,” Harry complains, watching as Zayn uses the vest Harry’d been wearing earlier to wipe the spunk off his leg. He then offers it to Harry. Harry isn’t quite sure what to think of this, but he supposes he’d better get himself cleaned up before he’s got cold, dried come crusted onto his skin. He could always throw it out and buy a new vest anyway; it’s not like he can’t afford it. 

He and Zayn join Ben under the thick duvet, Zayn curled around Harry’s back and Harry curled around Ben’s. It’s nice, really nice. Harry’s almost asleep when Zayn says, “Actually, Haz, I think I’m going to be in the mood for Subway in the morning. Tired of hotel food. I’ll let you know what sandwich when I get up.”

“That sounds good,” Ben pipes in with a yawn. “I think I’ll be having Subway, as well.” 

Harry pouts, but he can’t find it in him to be too upset after the night he’s had. He throws a leg over Ben and pulls Zayn’s arm tighter around his middle, and as he falls asleep he thinks it’s been a long time since he’s gone to bed feeling this warm inside.


End file.
